


awake, awake

by deer_lovely_lily



Series: st agnes sleepovers [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, POV Adam Parrish, Post-The Dream Thieves, Pre-Blue Lily Lily Blue, Sleepovers, may I offer you a st agnes sleepover fic in this trying time, st agnes sleepover, this is the first sleepover so... they be Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deer_lovely_lily/pseuds/deer_lovely_lily
Summary: Again, Adam was struck by the way Ronan seemed to belong; it felt like he had always been lying there on that bed, and Adam had simply failed to notice this truth until now. Ronan opened an eye and glanced at Adam, his head remaining motionless. Adam looked down, tying his coverall sleeves around his waist.“I thought you said you were showering.”Adam pulled off one of his shoes, looking up at Ronan again; “I thought you said I didn’t have to talk to you.”The corner of Ronan’s mouth quirked; he closed his eyes again.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: st agnes sleepovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165808
Comments: 46
Kudos: 323





	awake, awake

Adam knew he had been over-working. Since the Summer break had started, he had been taking all the extra shifts at work that he could get; more shifts now meant less shifts during his final year at high school, which meant more time to work on his college applications. He still had a couple of weeks before Aglionby started again. He could do this. 

Today, Adam had worked five hours at the factory, before driving the Hondayota straight to Boyd’s for another six. His body was barely holding him up by the time he got back to his church apartment that evening. He shut the door behind him and pressed his back against it, head tipping back to touch the wood with a soft _thump_ as he closed his eyes. He would have to be up again in six hours for his next job; he didn’t know how he was still managing.

He opened his eyes and lifted his palms up to inspect them in the dim light. New blisters had appeared on the heel of his hand and on the joints of his fingers. He gingerly touched the sore skin, testing the damage. They only stung a little. Probably they would start healing overnight. 

He sighed, pushing off the door and dropping his bag onto the wobbly stool by window, as he gently blew cold air onto the blisters to alleviate the pain. He allowed himself a moment to collapse backwards onto his bed; he had been on his feet for so long that even his lumpy, unsupported mattress on the floor felt like a haven. He took a deep breath in, eyes falling closed. 

He still had his shoes on. He was too tired to take them off. 

Cabeswater gently pressed its leaves up to the glass of his mind; the scent of rain-soaked soil and wild springs filled his lungs. He let it come to him, grateful for the company, and a weight lifted off him as it began to roll away some of the burdens of his subconscious. Behind his eyelids he could see those familiar vines curling gently over his arms, roots tugging him back down to the ground. He felt steady for the first time that day. It was strange how something so ethereal was often the only thing that could make Adam feel human again. Whenever he drifted, it was always there to guide him back into himself. 

A knock at the door stirred Adam from Cabeswater’s bracken; with effort, he opened his eyes and lifted his wrist up to check the time on his battered watch. Nearly 8pm. Mrs Ramirez usually left the church office around 6pm but she sometimes stayed later. He heaved himself up, and went to open the door, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. To his surprise, it was not Mrs Ramirez in the doorway, but Ronan Lynch.

“Evening, Parrish.”

“Ronan.” Adam dropped his hand from his eye and squinted at him sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

Ronan scratched the stubble on his chin idly, and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket. Strangely, he looked like he belonged there in the doorway, his shoulders softly backlit by the street lamp behind him like a painting.

“I was at the Barns,” Ronan said, as if that answered Adam’s question. He eyed Adam’s coveralls. “You just get back from work?” 

Adam raised an eyebrow at him. “Lynch, I have to be up at 5.”

Ronan picked at some chipped paint on the doorframe. “Gansey will be awake and I’m not in the mood to be probed about why I was out all day.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets. “You don’t have to talk to me or anything.”

Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, then stepped aside to allow Ronan through the door.

“Fine. Gimme your phone.”

Ronan looked at his out-held hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

Adam clarified, “I’m texting Gansey. Unless you already told him you were coming here?” 

Ronan made a face. He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his phone, placing it into Adam’s hand as he walked into the apartment. Adam unlocked it and sent Gansey a brief text, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

_Ronan crashing at mine tonight - Adam._

He looked up and saw that Ronan had collapsed back onto his mattress in the exact position Adam had just been lying in. A little moving speech bubble jumped up on the phone screen, and Adam watched it for a moment as Gansey typed his reply: 

_Adam!_

_Thanks for letting me know. Are you working tomorrow?_

Adam slowly typed back:

_Yeah. Can do Glendower stuff next week though._

Gansey sent him a thumbs up and then a smiley face. Adam turned the phone off and looked back at Ronan.

“I need to take a shower,” he said, dropping the phone onto Ronan’s chest as he walked past. 

“Whatever, man,” Ronan said, grimacing as he picked up the phone with his thumb and forefinger and slid it back into his pocket with distaste. “Go ahead.” 

He dropped his head back down, closing his eyes. As Adam peeled off his coverall sleeves, he spared a look at Ronan’s still form on the bed; his eyes were closed, brows pensively drawn together as if he were concentrating. Again, Adam was struck by the way Ronan seemed to belong; it felt like he had always been lying there on that bed, and Adam had simply failed to notice this truth until now.

Ronan opened an eye and glanced at Adam, his head remaining motionless. Adam looked down, tying his coverall sleeves around his waist.

“I thought you said you were showering.”

Adam pulled off one of his shoes, looking up at Ronan again; “I thought you said I didn’t have to talk to you.” The corner of Ronan’s mouth quirked; he closed his eyes again. “Don’t be asleep by the time I get out.”

Ronan gave him a two-fingered salute. 

Adam headed towards the tiny bathroom. In the shower he allowed himself the luxury of running the hot water for a moment longer than he could really afford. Warmth trickled down his back like hot honey; droplets hung from his eyelashes; raindrops sliding down the length of Cabeswater’s leaves. He closed his eyes, breathing in the misty air and feeling his lungs expand gratefully. 

Later, once he had stepped out of the shower and brushed his teeth, towel wrapped around his waist, he caught his foggy reflection in the little mirror above the sink. In the steam he appeared practically indistinguishable from any other 18 year old boy he knew; no dark circles, scars, blisters; no strange or unusual features. Nothing uncanny. Just the outline of a boy. He reached up and wiped the glass with his hand, watching his ever-wary expression stare back at him before quickly fading away again as the mirror fogged back up. One day he would have to actually _try_ in order for that expression to appear on his face; one day it wouldn’t just be his default.

When he stepped back into the apartment, the cold air made the hairs on his arms stand up. Ronan was still on the bed, boots now discarded on the floor beside him. He was lying on his back with his head hanging backwards over the foot of the mattress. The very last of the evening sun was casting cinematically fractured lines of light over his body, shrouding him in a warm and hazy glow. He was holding something up to his face with both hands, twisting it this way and that to get a better look at it.

“What’s that?” Adam frowned, crouching to dig out an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers from the single drawer tray on the floor that he had been keeping his clothes in. 

Ronan glanced at him, eyes lingering for just a moment as his lips parted to answer; he returned his gaze to the object with a frown. Adam looked at the floor. He felt his heart beating a little harder behind his ribs. This was not the first time Ronan had looked at him in this way.

He shouldn’t read into it. He couldn’t afford to read into it.

“Dream object.” Ronan grunted finally, not looking in Adam’s direction.

“Did you make that just now?” Adam asked, sliding on his boxers underneath the towel. He unwrapped the towel from around his waist and lifted it up to drag it over his wet hair. Ronan tossed the dream thing up into the air and deftly caught it with the opposite hand.

“Nah. Dreamt it earlier.”

Adam pulled his t-shirt over his head, then hung the towel over the bathroom door as he walked towards Ronan. When he reached the mattress where Ronan lay, he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Ronan looked up at him, hands suspended above his head as he gently clutched the object. Adam looked down at him, and then held out his hand. Ronan uncurled his fingers and allowed the dream object to roll into Adam’s palm; their fingers brushed lightly as it did. Then Ronan’s hands fell back. He gripped his wrist loosely, resting both hands on the crown of his buzzed head. Adam could tell Ronan was watching closely for his response to the dream; he carefully schooled his features as he lifted it up to study. It was wooden, circular, about the size and shape of a golf ball, and completely covered in tiny, intricately carved inscriptions. Adam couldn’t make any of them out, but as soon as the dream had touched his skin, a seemingly random selection of these letters had begun to emit an impossible gentle white glow. Adam turned it in his hand, running his fingers along the indents curiously.

“What does it do?”

“Fuck all.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “What is it _supposed_ to do?”

Ronan lifted one of his knees up, foot flat on the mattress, and lolled it from side-to-side a little, as if he were lounging on his own bed.

“It’s supposed to tell you what you’re feeling. The symbols light up to spell your emotions when you touch it.” He looked up again, catching Adam’s eye briefly, before tipping his head back further so that he could see the object in Adam’s hands. Adam almost dropped it right there out of instinct; something about someone being able to literally read your emotions felt very jarring to him. Ronan seemed to sense Adam’s unease, and he added quickly, “It doesn’t work, Parrish. The lettering’s all messed up. It’s too small to read anyway.”

Adam couldn’t figure out why Ronan had wanted to conceive such an object in the first place. What use would this be to Ronan, who had made it his mission in life to be as thoroughly and overwhelmingly himself as possible? Ronan, who was always so sure of himself, even if he did keep his true feelings guarded to his chest? Adam lifted the object a little closer to his face, squinting to see it better.

“Is it... What language is this?” Adam frowned; parts of the letters looked unlike any language he had seen before.

“Fuck knows,” Ronan shrugged. “You can keep it if you want, it’s starting to annoy the piss out of me.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Adam looked at it for a moment longer, before dropping his hand and the object into his lap with a sigh, and looking back at Ronan again. He tilted his head to the side to better see his face.

“No offence, but I do need to use that bed soon.” 

Ronan smirked, “I was just getting comfortable.”

Adam narrowed his eyes, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. 

“If you’re going to get comfortable here, you can do it on the floor. I have to be up early.”

Ronan said, “Harsh.”

“Sure.” Adam agreed, then gestured to the floor with a small upwards tilt of his chin. “Off.”

Ronan rolled his eyes luxuriously and swung his legs off the mattress, sliding himself onto the hard floor beside it. Adam pulled back the thin comforter, before promptly collapsing onto the poorly framed bed. The dream object was set down beside his pillow. He rolled over to face Ronan, who now lay stubbornly on his back with his hands folded over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. Adam rolled his eyes. He sat up, switched off the lamp, and then leaned over Ronan to grab his old brown fleece from the desk chair. Sitting back, he rolled the fleece up into a makeshift pillow, and looked down at Ronan.

“Lift up your head.”

Ronan glared at him. Adam glared back expectantly. Ronan huffed and reluctantly lifted his head for Adam to place the fleece underneath it. 

“Jesus.” He said, dropping his head back down onto his new pillow. “Expect a glowing yelp review after this, Parrish. You really know how to treat a guest.”

“You really know how to act like one.” Adam replied as he lay back down, his deaf ear pressing into his own pillow. Ronan casually flipped him off, which made Adam snort and bat his hand away.

“Asshole. Bring a blanket next time if you hate it so much.”

There was a moment of silence. Adam watched Ronan’s profile; the smile on his face had stilled in the dark. His Adam’s apple bobbed on the column of his neck as he swallowed. The words _next time_ seemed to linger in the air between them.

“I’ll do that.”

There was another beat of silence. Adam felt there was something to be said of that silence, though he was unsure what exactly. 

Ronan rolled his head to the side to look at him, and then, in a quiet voice, he said, “Night, Parrish.” 

Adam held his gaze; everything felt like a confession in the dark.

“Night,” he whispered.

Ronan repositioned his head so that he was facing the slanted ceiling once more. Adam looked at him for a moment longer, then rolled onto his back. His elbow touched the cool surface of the dream object and he blinked rapidly as the walls and ceilings lit up with a constellation of glowing lights; the letters from the dream had been projected around them. An impossible observatory. They didn’t make any more sense at this size, but Adam could finally see that they were in a huge variety of languages that Ronan couldn’t possibly know. Some of them didn’t even look real.

“I told you it doesn’t work. It’s basically a glorified fucking nightlight.”

Adam glanced at Ronan, whose face was stark and glowing under the lights; he was still looking up, his gaze jumping quickly between the mismatched symbols. Adam didn’t move his elbow. He looked at the ceiling now painted in his jumbled up feelings. If he thought about it, it wasn’t actually too far from the truth. The lights were chaotic and confusing and made absolutely no logical sense to look at; Adam thought that was kind of the reality of human emotions. Maybe something this abstract wasn’t meant to be tied into something as simple as a string of words.

“I think that’s okay,” he said after a few moments, settling into his bed and closing his eyes. “I always wanted a nightlight anyway.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> st agnes sleepovers aka the content stief deprived us of ✊😔
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading !! any feedback would mean the world ♥️👄♥️
> 
> (title from the song ‘awake, awake’ by maz o’connor)


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